


You Need Cake

by orpikjam44



Series: I'll Make It Right [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Cake, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Male Character, Hockey, M/M, NHL RPF, Vancouver Canucks, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orpikjam44/pseuds/orpikjam44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendan is eager to help Bert and Nazzy patch up their problems, as long as he can get them both to cooperate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Need Cake

_CHAPTER TWO_

“Stop moping. You want me to buy you a cake or something? Cause say the word and I’m over there in five minutes with a cake.”

“Shut up, Brendan,” Bert grunts into the phone, massaging his temple. The third peg in the West Coast Express Line, Brendan Morrison, has been trying to talk sense into Bert ever since he -- somehow, probably through telepathy -- figured out what happened that one night last week.

Had it been a week already, Bert wonders, squinting at his calendar. It had. It had been a whole week since Nazzy kicked him out of his house, but his words are still ringing in Bert’s ears as if he had just screamed them a moment ago.

“...Then I’ll bring cupcakes. I know you can’t resist--”

“Just stop, I’m not in the mood,” Bert grunts, resisting the urge to slam the phone back on the hook. He’ll call right back. Of course he will. Well, he could always rip the jack out of the wall...

Brendan’s sigh sounds tinny over the phone. “You’ve been not in the mood since a week ago. Nazzy would be pretty upset if he knew you were _still_ fuming over him.”

“And why would he think I’d react in _any_ other way?! He knows me! Fucking better than anyone else in the whole goddamn world! Better than I know me, Brendan!” Bert snarls, gripping the receiver so hard he’s sure he can hear the plastic cracking in his hand. He doesn’t care. Maybe it’ll break and end the phone conversation. “Look, I gotta go--”

“Take some time, cool off, and let him do the same.” Brendan’s speaking quickly, maybe he knows Bert’s about ready to hang up on him. Thinking this makes Bert smile despite himself. “Let him realize he needs you, Bert. Cause he does. Everyone knows Nazzy needs his big Tuzz-Bear.”

“Shut _up_ , Brendan.” Bert curls his lip at Brendan’s laughter, but the sentiment does calm his pounding pulse a bit. _Nazzy needs his big Tuzzi-Bear_. Hearing those words, no matter how ridiculous Brendan was being, comforted him. And his teammate had meant them, too, just in his own way of injecting humor into every situation. “But what do I do if he doesn’t come around?”

Brendan chuckled and Bert could hear him shifting the phone. “Come on, Tuzzi-Bear, you know he will.”

“Has he talked to _you_ yet?”

“Since... a week ago?”

“Since a week ago.”

There’s a long pause and Bert’s about ready to snap into the phone line when Brendan finally speaks again. “Yes. Sort of. I mean, he wouldn’t tell me any of the details of what happened, but I pieced it together. You guys will figure it out, okay? In the meantime, the cake offer still stands, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Got it, Tuzzi-Bear?”

“Shut up, Brendan.”

Once he hangs up the phone, Bert drops onto his couch, hugging a pillow to his chest, glowering up at the ceiling. Has it been a whole week? Or has it _only_ been a week? There’s a difference, and it’s a big one, but which is it?

Of course Nazzy spoke to Brendan, he’d always been Nazzy’s shoulder to cry on whenever he and Bert were having problems. Which, surprisingly, hadn’t been too often over the years. And Bert would like to think that perhaps one of the other falling outs they’d endured had been worse than this, or at least close.

It hadn’t. No argument or fight the two of them had ever been through had been as emotionally taxing as this one.

Bert stares back at the phone. He wants to call Nazzy, just to hear his voice, hear that sweet laugh and hear the smile in his tone. He won’t, though, not if he calls him now. All he’ll hear is pain and fear and that’s the last thing he wants stuck in his brain.

He twitches an eyebrow. _Dammit._ There’s someone else he needs. And he needs him now.

==

“So you weren’t kidding about the cake, were you?” Bert says, pulling the door open to let Brendan in, trying to hide his smile at his friend’s jovial attitude. “It better be good.”

Brendan’s dressed casually, jeans and a tight t-shirt with a gray zip-up hoodie open over his shoulders, hair lightly tousled. He’s holding a box with some fancy, swirly logo on it, the only part of which Bert can make out is _bake shop of Vancouver_. “Of course I wasn’t kidding. Why would I? That would be stupid.”

“Well...” Bert trails off, grinning, and dodges a light punch from a laughing Brendan. “I have wine,” he says, “Shall we?” He gestures towards the kitchen.

==

The cake is half-gone, the wine bottle is emptied, laying on the floor of Bert’s bedroom. Another bottle is open, sitting on the nightstand, cork lazily pressed into the top.

Bert isn’t sure at what point he laid down on his bed, talking at the ceiling, and had no clue when it was that Brendan laid down next to him. Maybe half a bottle of wine ago? That sounded about right.

“How does he not get what I’m going through!?” Bert moans, dropping an arm over his forehead. “Naz knows me better than anyone, wouldn’t you think he’d fuckin’ figure out I’m not going to, like, fuckin’ _kill_ him or something? I could never even push him. I feel bad when we play-fight sometimes. Fucking shit.”

Brendan is close, but not too close, resting his empty wine glass on his chest, other hand playing with the strip of bare belly visible under his hiked up t-shirt. He’d had his fair share of the wine that night, and his cheeks are rosy as a result. “I keep telling you, it’s a two-way street, Bert. Obviously there’s something you’re not understanding.”

“Fuck it, I understand everything. Shut up, Brendan.”

Brendan laughs, shoulders shaking, tapping his glass on his nose. “No you don’t, Tuzzi-Bear.” He holds up a finger to stop Bert before he can interject. “This is scary for him and he wants you to be stable and strong, but that’s the last thing you are right now--”

Bert can feel his pulse start pounding, a tick of irritation pecking at his brain. Even through the buzz, Brendan’s words are irritating him. “How can I fucking be stable and strong with all this shit going on?! And with him being all fucking crazy!?” He’s trying to keep his voice at a tolerable level, not trying to blow Brendan’s head off, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going terribly well.

Brendan holds up his hands in defense, waiting for the onslaught of words to stop. “Okay, listen, Bert-Bear. I know you’re not. Of course you’re not. No one expects you to be. Not even Nazzy, but he needs stability and comfort. You need the same thing. That’s why you guys are clashing right now. Cause you both crave the same kind of comfort from each other. It’s like oil holding onto water at this point.”

What Brendan’s saying sounds right to Bert, but it also sounds bad. Oil and water don’t mix. So he and Nazzy don’t mix? And what if he doesn’t go back to normal? What if he’s still unstable for a while? What if they never both become oil or water or whatever it is Brendan’s trying to get at? Does that mean he doesn’t get Nazzy back?! “Do I never get Nazzy back!?”

It takes a moment, but Brendan lets out a bark of laughter, eyes squeezed shut. He tilts his head, an apologetic look on his handsome face. “Bert, listen. This is temporary, but you do have to work through it. I’ll be here, okay? Please let me know what I can do for you, and for you guys.”

“Kay.” Bert still isn’t sure how confident he is in Brendan’s words. What if it _isn’t_ temporary? What if he fucked things up? What happened with Moore -- all of it, not just the end -- was traumatizing for everyone involved, especially Nazzy, who was already mentally fragile. This could have easily been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Or the log, more like it.

Bert sniffs, wiping his hand across his nose. The tears were back. He hadn’t even felt them start. How long had he been crying for? “I just want to see him smile again.”

When his vision clears through the fog of tears, Brendan’s smile is warm and sincere, filled with so much kindness Bert chokes up and has to bury his face in his pillow. It’s too late to hide, but he can’t look at Brendan’s face any more. His sweet, handsome friend... his...

Brendan’s hand is warm on his shoulder, soft and comforting. It doesn’t leave, even when Bert refuses to show his face with gentle urging from Brendan.

Even his words are warm when he speaks. “It’s going to work out. This is scary for everyone. You just need to prove to Nazzy that you’re strong, no matter how long it takes you to be ready to do that.”

Bert shifts onto his side so he’s facing Brendan, his hand still gently resting on Bert’s shoulder. “I hope I’m strong.”

Brendan rolls his eyes patting Bert’s arm. He scoots closer. “Come on, you’re the strongest guy I know. And with _my_ help, you’ll be golden.”

At that moment, Bert starts laughing. He doesn’t know where it came from, but it’s the first time he’s really, truly laughed in who knows how long. He’s tired, emotionally and physically, but relieved, and before he knows it, he throws his arms around his smaller friend, pulling him in close to his body.

Brendan presses in closer to Bert’s hug, gently stroking his chest. It’s been a while since they’ve done this, and damn does it feel good. So fucking good! It’s not like holding Nazzy, no, it’s an entirely different feeling. It’s warm, friendly, protective... comforting to the point of almost bringing him to tears again. _Is this how Nazzy feels when I hold him? I hope so... because this is good... I want Nazzy to feel this good..._

Brendan looks up, fingers clutched into Bert’s black shirt. “I think you need more cake.”

“Shut up, Brendan.”


End file.
